Here's the second chapter. I still don't own any of these guys. This chapter is also not checked by a beta, so all the faults are my own, enjoy!

Glorfindel should have known better then to think that everything would be alright, he really should have! Nothing would go 'alright' as soon as one thought that cursed thought. Had he not had that exact same thought right before the Balrog had dragged him over the edge by his hair? Had he not thought that right before the twins dumped a bucket of eggs on his head? Had he not thought that right before some novice warriors has used his behind as target for archery? Had he not thought that right before the last white council meeting?

It started with Thranduil's chosen vehicle, instead of taking a horse, like any sane elf would've done, he had to take an Elk, an elk with antlers so big that it would be impossible to fit into the stables. Worse than that: he had taken his sons with him! Snuffles, his eldest currently went through the dreaded Second Elven puberty. This was a phenomenon unique for immortals and usually occurred between the first and second century, when the body was already mature but the mind was still growing. No elf wanted to be reminded of that particular period in their lives, and Glorfindel was no exception. He and Ecthelion had started the ERPGA (Equal Right for Pigs in Gondolin Association). For a decennia, they had tried to collect signature to give pigs all the rights that the elves had, and they had especially focussed on voting rights. Now that he looked back it did seem strange; first of all, Gondolin was a monarchy, so the pigs' lives would not have changed drastically with this action and secondly, there were only three pigs in the whole of Gondolin, so their votes wouldn't have mattered anyways.

Snuffles' hair, which would normally come to his waist, stood up straight and the points were painted in neon colours. His clothes were blinding to the eye and his colour-combinations were just terrible. Legolas, Thranduil's youngest, also seemed to think that, as he looked with disgust at the clothes his brother wore. Glorfindel thought that Thranduil's wife had been smart enough to name her second son, after Thranduil had called the first Snuffles, after his favourite rabbit when he was just a little child.

Legolas himself was already surrounded by speed-painters, since he was somewhat of a celebrity. He had been the head model of MFW (Mirkwood Fashion Week) and was a regular on the cover page of 'Lothlorien's Looks'. He was already busily talking to all his fans when Glorfindel approached.

'O my Valaaar, I was like: this is sooo awwsome,' nodding to one of the interviewers Legolas started to describe his boots. 'O yes, these are the original Orc-Runner Mirkwood Edition Boots, evade the orcs while looking good! Only 19,99 and in the stores right now!'

Thranduil looked majestic, of course. He had two bottles of wine in each hand he was already dominating the Eleven Elves in their woodland jigs, adding some words that did not really seem appropriate. When he saw Glorfindel approaching he held up his hands in greeting, before dismounting in one fluid movement and embracing the Balrog-Slayer. 'Long time no see! Thranduil is in da house! Elvenking and party-animal extraordinaire.'

Freeing himself from the stifling embrace, Glorfindel bowed awkwardly and stepped back. 'I welcome you on behalf of Imladris and its lord, Elrond here.'

'O my Valaaar, that is sooo funny!' Legolas said, as he spotted Elrond hanging over Glorfindel's shoulder. 'Very daring, darling. Yet a bit over the top, I would've gone with just a feather Boa.'

Ignoring Legolas for a moment, the Balrog-Slayer looked around, trying to count the elves Thranduil had taken with him. If one didn't count the king, Snuffles and Legolas, there were twenty warriors, three tailors, two speed painters, one fashion designer, five healers, nine wine makers, seven ale-makers and one scribe. He could house the Warriors in the barracks, but the rest would be a lot more difficult. Just then he saw Erestor standing a few meters away and hastily waved him over. 'Erestor here will lead you all to the rooms, the Warriors can follow me.'

He quickly left, hearing Legolas' voice drowning on about where his tailors and fashion designers should be housed, Erestor did not particularly look pleased with him.

Celeborn was mad, angry, outraged and annoyed. He had just been having a really nice bad, experimenting with the different soaps Imladris offered (he liked the lavender one, but peach was a close second), reading 'Cirdan's Advice for Beard-Braiding', he was already getting old and the last time he looked into the mirror he would've sworn that he had seen a light stubble.

He had also been thinking whether there was still a place free in 'Hildor's Hopping Horses', which did seem like a nice outside activity.

But everything changed when the Twins attacked. Only Elrond, master of Imladris, could stop them, but when Celeborn needed him most, he vanished. Many hours went by and he still hadn't found him.

On top of that: he was now also afraid of coming out of his room. As the director of 'Lothlorien's look' he should always look completely proper; but now, oh NOW, his hair, his usually so fine silver hair had turned a truly awful shade! He could however, finally take legal action against the twin terrors; grandsons or not, his hair had been insured for more than 2000 golden coins. (Galadriel had insisted on the insurance, but now he was glad for his meddlesome wife). His lawyers would make short work of the case.

Happy that he finally had the twins trapped, he tried to open the bathroom door, but it wouldn't budge. Trying again, harder this time, he still did not succeed in opening it. It could not be true! The twins wouldn't dare to, even they would lack the courage to entrap Celeborn the Mighty, Celeborn the Wise, Celeborn the Giver of Great Gifts, etc. etc. About those 'Great Gifts', he did regret giving the twins a few for their begetting days. Perhaps he shouldn't have given them those 'Play-Elf' magazines? There was not much for it, but to wait until someone, a servant for example, would find out that the door was locked. He could hardly climb out of his window in his naked glory. Could he?

This left him with one option: reading the magazines and books he had left in the bathroom for reading on the toilet, after all, even for elves constipation was a pain in the behind. (Literally, in Celeborn's case). He sometimes called his bathroom his second, secret library, because there he would find out about many secrets. He was a well-known author in the conspiracy world, although he stayed anonymous of course. One of his greatest hits had been the article titled: 'Sauron, Evil Maia or Re-incarnated King Thingol?' other hits included 'Lembas: Good Waybread or Mordor's Delight?', 'Eärendil, a Shining Star with a Dark Secret', and 'The Secret Love Life of Feänor, Truly the Father of Seven Sons or Actually Eight?'

He had almost enough evidence to show that the hobbits did plan world-domination and that they would be helped by white ferrets. He had to be very careful though, if they knew that he knew what they planned than they would dispose of him, and ferrets had a nasty bite. Strangely enough, a ferret bite had actually brought him on this track, it seemed that the animal had wanted to warn him not to dig deeper, but he, Celeborn the Mighty, Celeborn the Wise, Celeborn the Giver of Great Gifts, etc. etc. would not turn down, just because a few people tried to murder him!

He heard a strange commotion in the courtyard, but when he looked out of the window, he saw nothing. The only new thing in the courtyard was a strange banner, though. Something about livers, and he did not even eat that! Suddenly a voice drifted upwards, a voice he would recognize out of thousands.

'GIL-GALAD WAS AN ELVEN-JERK,

IN BATTLE HE ALWAYS WENT BESERK,

HE WAS NEITHER FAIR NOR FUN,

AND NOW THIS SONG IS DONE!'

That could be no other than his friend, could it? Thranduil, party-animal extraordinaire was in da house! No doubt that they were organizing the best party ever downstairs, but they had forgotten to invite him. What a pity, than he should just surprise everyone, shouldn't he? He could set aside his pride to attend a good party, after all, no one would remember what happened afterwards. With a devilish grin and his mind set to a goal, lord Celeborn the Brave, lord Celeborn the Mighty, lord Celeborn the Wise, lord Celeborn the Giver of Great Gifts etc. etc. climbed out of the window in his glorious nudity.

Keeping track of Thranduil's family was mind-numbing work, Erestor thought. Legolas chatted continuously, over the shallowest things. Snuffles only said 'Man, that is deeeep.'

Thranduil would also repeat himself endlessly, and regularly burst out in inappropriate songs over great heroes. An example of a conversation between them went like this:

'So, like, I said to him: 'darling, those shoes with that robe?' Like seriously, his whole style was so second age!'

'Man, that is deeeep.' Snuffles answered

'O my Valaaaar, I am so deep, I know, right? Anyways, this elf just looks at me like I've made this crazy suggestion, but what would he now of fashion right? I mean come on, I am proclaimed to be the Most Sexiest Elf Alive. And I walked in the Mirkwood Fashion Week as the most important model. So I say to him-'

'THRANDUIL IS IN DA HOUSE! WHERE'S THE BOOOZE?'

'Man, that is deeeep.'

'Yeah, I know right? By the way, I saw Glorfindel and I was like: O my Valaaar, he's like, so much faded glory. I am sure he could've been like Cover Model on CosmoGondorian but now he's just plain first age, and come on, using Elrond as a scarf? Been there, done that!'

'Man, that is deeeeep.'

'THINGOL WAS A STUPID FU-'

'SHUT UP! All of you. I am sure that you've all had a long journey and that you'll want to rest for a while.' Erestor massaged his temples. Headaches were rare, but not unheard of among the elves and he felt one coming that would keep him bedridden for the next century.

'I WANNA PARTY!' Thranduil screamed, 'LET'S GO TO THE HALL OF FIRE!'

A true mob of elves followed him, where they had appeared from was a mystery. Erestor could have sworn that they had been alone in the hallway not a minute ago. Suddenly he realised what implications this would have. If Celeborn heard the noises, he would investigate and Valar knows what would happen. He hitched up his robes and sprinted to where he had seen Glorfindel.

A song about Gil-Galad seemed to follow him while he ran through the halls.

Glorfindel had finally come to the decisions to cut his hair, so that he finally would be free of Elrond. Resolutely he had grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting, until his hair was above his shoulders. Tenderly laying Elrond down, he rose.

Erestor, huffing and puffing and red in the face, came running to him. 'I failed, they- they are on their way to the hall of fire, I couldn't stop them!'

Shocked, Glorfindel grabbed his shoulders and shook him. 'No, NOOO!' dramatically he sunk to his knees, taking Erestor with him. 'And Celeborn? What about him?'

'There at least I have good news to share: he is still in his rooms. I fear to tread this path, but thread it we must. To the hall of fire we have to go, to stop the party from happening and keep the noise down. Come, my friend, together we have been through many perils, and this might become the greatest of them all. Let us stand strong and tall, and let us make sure that no noise shall make it to Celeborn's ears.'

'Your words give me courage, Erestor. So it shall be, us against the rest. Us against the world. The stakes are high and the board is set. Let us go, let us triumph! All shall fall before Glorfindel the Great and Erestor the Librarian.'

Together they walked to the halls, and both hesitated a moment, before opening the doors. The party hit them in full force, and they saw things, terrible things that would haunt their nightmares for ages to come.

The twins were pricking marshmallows on Snuffles' neon-coloured hair spikes. Legolas was posing for the speed-painters while chatting non-stop. 'You want a signature? Here you go darling. OW! You pricked me, watch out with those needles, tailor! How I experienced MFW, it was completely awesome! O my Valaaar! Figwit, I haven't seen you in like, ages! No I don't do nude. Swimwear shoot can be arranged, go talk to my manager please. OW, I told you, tailor. Those needles are sharp… '

Thranduil had found the hidden stash of Dorwinion and was singing and drinking, sometimes at the same time. The elves around him were also drunk and were making some awful noises. (Erestor told him that it was called yodelling).

The Eleven Elves were rocking on the stage, and the elk (how did that get in here) was standing patiently while other elves braided party-lights in its antlers. Suddenly an outcry echoed across the room. There, completely naked stood Celeborn, looking at Thranduil.

'THRANDUIL, YOU OLD PARTY- ANIMAL!'

'CELEBORN! YOU OLD FEASTBEAST!'

Glorfindel and Erestor looked at each other. It was too late, they had failed. 'Save yourself!'

It was calm and peaceful when Elrond woke up. The sun had just risen above the horizon, and he had not slept so well in ages. Why he had a handful of golden hair in his hands was a mystery.

Then he remembered. Everything. Yet is was so quiet and peaceful, perhaps everything had gone okay-ish?'

He looked outside and saw the most horrible thing: a banner on which stood written 'Liver Smell: the Capstone of Losing no Wretch.'

It would have to be removed. Immediately. He stood up and walked outside. It hung high, but he had finished 'Gil-Galad's Building Climbing Parkour' in a record time, so this wouldn't pose a problem.

Why would anyone make a banner about Liver though? It was well known that he hated eating Liver. As a healer, he had figured out that he had probably inherited that from Celeborn, his father-in-law, with genetics and all. Getting the banner down was no problem, and with the banner in one hand he decided to go to the hall of fire, to get an explanation why this horrible piece of food had been written so hugely.

He opened the doors to the halls of fire. A vein on his temple began to throb. His face became red. He opened his mouth 'GLORFINDELLLLLLLLLLLLL!' and then he behaved as Peredhil of his age are wont to do when they are angry; he fainted.

The end

So that was it :), a short story, hopefully you all liked it!

Please read and review!

Love, Laureiel